Into Manhattan
by Sunshie
Summary: It's New York City in the late 1800's. The city is run by Newsies. A young woman from the mountains has just arrived in Manhattan to housekeep for her uncle and finds herself thrown into the Newsies world. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

It's New York in the late 1800's . The city is ruled by Newsies. A young woman from the mountains has just moved into Manhattan to housekeep for her uncle and finds herself thrown into the middle of the Newsies world.

It was midmorning and I stood on the curb gazing across the street at the Newsboys Lodging House. When my mother had decided several weeks before that my Uncle Kloppman, whom I had never met, needed taking care of and decided to send me I had not pictured this. I had seen a small apartment above a flower shop or a restaurant. What I was getting was a lodging house for urchins with a small apartment for my uncle and I above it. And because my uncle was in charge of the place I was also receiving responsibility for the mess that was the whole lodging house.

Taking a deep breath, I looked both ways and marched across the street. There was no going back now. I was here to stay, with no money to get myself back home.

I entered into the small front room. A counter with a large account book dominated the space and behind it a small graying man sat. He looked up as the door closed behind me. "May I help you?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied gripping my carpet bag that contained all I possessed even tighter. "I'm Abigail. I've come to live with my uncle, Mr. Kloppman. I was told I could find him here."

"Abigail" The man harumphed. "Susanna's daughter. Welcome to New York. I'll show you where you can put your things."

"Thank you umm..." I was unsure what to call the man and if he was my uncle or just knew about my family.

"Just call me Kloppman," and he led the way up the staircase that sat off to the right of his counter.

As we passed the second floor he stated, "This is where the Newsies stay. I usually clean up in there about now, so after you put you things away you can come help me and I will show you how it goes."

On the third floor he unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open for me. The place had a slightly neglected look, though someone had recently made the effort to shift the furniture and create enough space for a cot and set of drawers in one corner. The same someone, I suspected, had also hung a curtain that could be pulled down for privacy in that corner.

I set my carpet bag on the cot then turned and followed my uncle back down the stairs.

The wide room full of bunk beds where the Newsies stayed had the look of a room that had endured many years of its current occupation. There was another room off of it with rows of wash basins and stalls with chamber pots that smelled, to my horror, like they needed emptying. We headed into this room first. From a closet on the third floor my uncle had gathered cleaning supplies. A mop, a bucket and two brooms.

"I will start here," he said pointing to the stalls and I relaxed a little. "You mop in here and sweep out there. Anything you find on the floor just set on the nearest bed. When your finished we will go have lunch."

I nodded and got to work, finding a water pump at one end of the row of wash basins. As I mopped I noticed with dismay the amount of effort it took Kloppman to lift each chamber pot. I tried to remember if my mother had mentioned him having a bad back.

When he had finished emptying the pots I suggested, "Uncle? You probably have things you need to work on. I can finish up here."

He nodded and left. Once I heard him retreat down the stairs I propped my broom against the wall and leaned next to it. I surveyed the room, it looked almost as neglected as the apartment upstairs. It took me only a moment to come to the decision that giving it a good solid cleaning now would save time later. I fetched some dust rags from the closet upstairs, discovered that the back windows overlooked a dirty alley that my wash water and dirt could be dumped out into and got to work.

Two hours later, after putting away my broom, mop and rags I surveyed the room. It was as clean as it was going to get right now, I would wash sheets tomorrow. Kloppman would know where I could wash and dry everything.

That afternoon I began my campaign against the grime in the apartment. By suppertime I had a mental list of things that needed to be done the next day. Finding the local grocer, butcher and baker, a lot of laundry, airing out the whole building. Not that an airing would do that much good in this city where the air was so clogged with smog.

Over a dinner of what I had scrounged from the cabinets in the apartment I told my uncle of my plans for the next day. He nodded and said, "The grocer, butcher and baker are all near the square where the boys pick up their papers in the morning. You can follow them out. The laundry is done on the roof."

I woke the next morning at dawn to have stale bread and coffee with my uncle then went down to wait at the front desk while he went through the bunk room hollering and waking the newsboys. From my place behind the desk I could hear him as he wandered between the bunks. "Boots! Wake up Cowboy!"

Within ten minutes the boys were pounding down the stairs some still pulling up their suspenders and Kloppman had appeared to count them off. He caught one of them before the boy could get out of the door.

"Cowboy, this here is my niece Abigail. She needs to get to the square. You show her where it is." And then he went back to counting off the newsboys that were galloping by as I followed the tall blonde Cowboy out into the early morning sun.

"Abigail, what brings you to New York?" he asked placing his hat, a true cowboy hat not the one of the caps like the other boys wore, on his head.

"I'm here to help Uncle Kloppman with keeping the place clean."

He nodded at this and 5 other lads all about the same age as Cowboy and I, joined us. I followed the introductions while trying to keep an eye on where we were going. The tall Italian with a crooked smile was called Racetrack beside him with thick blonde hair and an eye patch was Kid Blink. Next was a strapping boy with short curly brown hair named Mush. Lastly Cowboy introduced me to Crutchy, a thin young man with a limp and a high voice and Boots a short intelligent looking boy with skin the color of chocolate.


	2. Chapter 2

Jostling each other the lads headed down the street with me in tow. I had just barely remembered to grab a basket for my groceries on my way out and my uncle had given me the money for what I needed along with strict instructions to haggle. I walked at the back of the group listening to the chatter that swirled around and concentrated on where we were going.

"Youse new to Manhattan, Abbey?"

I looked up. The Italian they called Racetrack had fallen in step beside me. I considered

telling him no one called me Abbey but glancing at his grin decided to hold my tongue. "New to the city," I responded. "I ain't ever been out of the mountains before this week."

"What do you think of the city?" Crutchy asked as he hobbled along on Racetrack's other side. "It must be different from the mountains."

"It's so big and there are people everywhere. One city block here has more people living in it than my whole town does."

"Well then let us introduce you to New York." Racetrack said.

We entered a square with a statue of a man sitting in the center. The statue already had some Newsies climbing on it. Across from us were the high iron gates of the newspaper distribution and two men on a platform were writing up the day's headlines.

"Here we are," Jack announced, taking charge of the boys. He pointed, "That, there is the baker's. The grocer's is right around that corner and the butcher's is next to it."

"When youse gets in there tell 'em you're Kloppman's niece and they'll take it easy on you. Gots any problems come get us. We'll be over there getting our papes." Kid Blink spoke up for the first time.

I nodded and took my leave of them, heading to the baker's first.

When I entered the Bakery the large man behind the counter straitened from putting pastries on rack in the glass showcase. "May I help you Miss?"

"Yes, sir. I'm Abigail, Mr. Kloppman's niece. I'm to be doing his shopping for him from now on."

A smile spread across the man's face. "Pleased to meet you Abigail!" he said enthusiastically. "Your uncle mentioned you were coming. I'm Gary Howard. What can I get for you today?"

I gave him my order and as he was getting my bread he called into the back. "Linda! Come out here! Kloppman's niece Abigail came to get bread!" A pregnant woman, covered in flour came out of the back and introduced herself.

After thanking her for her greeting I paid and she went back into the back. As I turned to the door Mr. Howard called after me. "Abigail," I looked back, "If you are looking to earn a little money while you're here in the city my wife will be needing some help making the bread in the morning real soon as she is due to have our baby in a month." I opened my mouth to say I would have to ask my uncle but Mr. Howard smiled and finished, "Don't answer now. Go get your shopping done and ask your uncle. Have a good day!" He turned to an incoming customer and I walked out.

The grocer, a Mr. Murphy and the butchers, a Mr. Collin and his wife were pleasant people all of whom treated me as a valued costumer once they knew who I was. When I came out of the butcher's I found Racetrack selling a paper on the corner. "Thank you mum." He said accepting the woman's coin and giving her a paper. He glanced up as she walked away and grinned. "Thought I'd wait to make sure youse knew the way back."

"Thank you but don't you need to work?" I asked worried.

"Naw. I got time. I'm heading over there anyways. It's on the way to the Sheepshead."

"Where?"

"The racetrack," he replied his grin widening as he revealed the origin of his nickname.

"Well," I wondered if I was going to make some social faux pas. "At least fell free to sell on the way."

His grin widened. "And here I wanted to hear about your mountains."

I laughed.

That was how I became associated with the newsboys and the rest of Manhattan. My weeks settled into a pattern. Monday through Saturday I rose early and started my day in the bakery, learning how to bake the delicious loaves of bread and pastries the Howards' sold while making some pocket money which I began to save for the future. Every morning when I came out covered from head to toe in flour, one of the Newsies more often than not Racetrack, Mush or Boots and once in a while Skittery, a weed of a boy with a mop of dark brown hair or Kid Blink would be waiting to wander back to the lodging house with me. I wondered at times if they were just being friendly or if the gesture was more of a protective one. Everyone I had encountered in Manhattan, whether they liked the boys or not, respected the Newsies and I wondered how much of this action was possessive.

I made sure I always arrived back at the lodging house with plenty of time to make my uncle lunch as I felt some guilt about leaving him on his own for breakfast. In the afternoon I cleaned house, starting on the first floor and making my way up through the bunk room to the apartment. The evenings were spent reading, preferably ballads and poetry, or helping the younger Newsies with their letters. We practiced reading and writing using some slate and chalk that the blonde boy nicknamed Specs for his glasses had dug up somewhere.

On Sundays I washed the laundry and tied up loose ends. Sometimes this included threatening any of the boys who were particularly stinky into changing into a pair of extra duds while I washed the ones they usually wore. I was never bored. There were always games to play among the boys. I found myself acting as a mother and becoming a friend to these orphans and run aways that before I never would have looked twice at.

My daily life was far from perfect but I was content. The things that aspired to disturb this general air of happiness could be ignored. I had a job and a purpose what more could I need.

The first problem I ran into within my first week. I began to notice that none of the women who's families didn't know my uncle approached me to greet me and welcome me to the neighborhood as the women at home would have. When I tried to make friends one morning on my way to run an errand I got a verbal slap for my pains. Apparently even under the guardianship of my uncle, my honor, something I had never given much thought to before, was being stained by my proximity to the newsies. I decided that this wasn't worth my time and threw myself into helping my uncle. His memory was slowly beginning to fail him and was to the point that he could no longer hide it from those who lived with him. More and more often I found myself leaving lists for him of what he needed to do during the day and when. The boys silently assisted me in this endeavor.

I didn't have time to be homesick for my first month in New York. It wasn't until I received a letter from my mother assuring me that everything at home was going smoothly during the 5th week of my stay that being away finally caught up with me.

Racetrack found me late that evening sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling. "Abbey?" He called using the nickname he had given me. One my mother would have killed him for. She hated nicknames. I choked back a sob. No one back home dared to call me Abbey.

Racetrack came up next to me. "Are you coming to read with- Are you okay?" he sat next to me looking at my tear blotched profile.

I nodded and gulped, "Sorry."

"What's wrong?" He glanced at the letter on my lap. "Did something happen?"

I swallowed. "No." I coughed and wiped my eyes. "Everything is fine. Home just caught up with me, I guess." I put my hand on the letter. "Foolish of me."

"Nah." He said teasingly. "We all miss our homes at some point or another. Even the runaways. Ask Mush. He'll tell you."

I looked at him horrified for a moment and feeling so selfish. Here I was the only one in the

building aside from my uncle who had a family to write to and go home to and I was moping.

He offered his handkerchief and I wiped my eyes. "Thanks."

"Anytime. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"Thank you, Race. Really."

"Hey, what are friends for?" He clapped me on the shoulder. "Wanna bet on who will win at cards tonight?"

I chuckled wetly as we stood to head inside. "You always win because you remember the cards. Tell me who won at the tracks today."


	3. Chapter 3

It was less than a week after this discussion that Mrs. Howard had her baby. I was working as usual in the bakery when I heard her give a gasp and Mr. Howard gave a shout. Hurrying to the front room I almost collided with him. His normally jolly face was tense. "Abigail, go fetch the midwife. Tell her the baby's ready. Then run over to Mrs. Thomas'. Here." He pulled a paper off the counter with an address. "Run!" He shouted after me as I trotted out.

Reaching the sidewalk I realized I may have had an address for Mrs. Thomas but I had no clue where to find the midwife. I looked around the square. "Mush!" Shedding flour, I hailed the well muscled Newsie. "Mush!" He ran over. "Mrs. Howard needs the midwife. Where do I find her? Then I need to get to-"

He cut me off. "I'll go. You run to wherever else you need to go," and he was off.

I supposed he hadn't realized I didn't know where to find Mrs. Thomas' was either. I looked at the paper. The address was in Brooklyn. I at least could get there and then find someone to ask. My dilemma decided, I began walking as fast as I could towards Brooklyn.

Once I had crossed the bridge into Brooklyn I had no clue where I was. Wondering if this had been a very bad idea, I pondered who I should ask for directions. Cowboy who I had learned was also called Jack had warned me that there were some parts of the city a sensible person just didn't wander around in. I shook off the worry that had descended on me and turned my attention to getting directions. Who would know the city? I almost smacked myself. I needed a Newsie.

When I looked down the street I was on I didn't see any of the boys from the lodging house and was about to head down another street when I saw a young man hawking headlines and carrying a stack of papers. It took me a moment to recognize him as a newsboy before I reminded myself that I couldn't possibly know every Newsie in New York.

"Excuse me." I walked up to him.

"A paper, miss?" he asked.

"No thank you. I was just wondering if you knew how I could get to this address." I held out my scrap of paper.

The newsie glanced at it. "Sure I can take you there."

I nodded. "Thank you." I followed him across street and down the next block. "I don't believe I've met you before." I said before I could help myself.

He smirked. "Spot Conlon."

"I'm Abigail."

He inclined his head. "Well here you are. Mrs. Thomas is on the 3rd floor."

"Thank you so much, Spot." I dug in my pocket for a coin.

"No need." He waved the money away. "I knows who you are, Abbey." And he walked off. I stared after him trying to reassure myself that I had said my name was Abigail not Abbey.

Mrs. Thomas turned out to be Mrs. Howard's mother. A small ferocious gray haired lady who cleared the sidewalk before her with her handbag. She ignored me except to screech over her shoulder once or twice for me to walk faster. After escorting her to the bakery I cleaned up the morning's baking and headed home with Boots turning up to walk with me. I made my uncle a late lunch and started on my cleaning duties.

About half way through sweeping the bunk room I noticed I wasn't alone. Racetrack was leaning against the door frame, watching me. I started to smile at him but saw that his usual cocky grin was absent. "Is something wrong?"

"You went over to Brooklyn today."

"Yes?" I was confused.

"You shouldn't have gone all by yourself."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous to wander around by yourself and Brooklyn's not our territory." He seemed to be avoiding something and getting worked up over it.

"I can take care of myself," I stated the stress of the morning and his tone making waspish.

"You'll ruin your reputation."

"What?!" I gasped.

"You should have had someone go with you," he insisted.

Inside me the dam burst. "And walking to Brooklyn with a newsie would have been any better!?" I snapped. He stared at me. I covered my mouth and turned around quickly so my face was to the wall. I couldn't believe I'd said it. The room was dead silent.

Then, "What do you mean?"

I shook my head and when I didn't hear him leave shook it again harder, feeling one of the pins slip out of my hair. The pin clattering against the floor was the only sound. I sat down on the bunk next to me and Racetrack came slowly over.

"What does that mean?" His voice was low. He sounded slightly hurt.

"It's nothing," I whispered. "Nothing. Just forget I said it."

"No-" We both heard the scrape of Kloppman's chair downstairs and knew he had decided Racetrack had been up here long enough. Race's voice hardened and he said, "We can talk later." We both stood. I continued my sweeping while he went over to dig through the drawers of one of the bedside tables. He pulled a half smoked cigar out and was going through the doorway as my uncle appeared at the top of the stairs. "See you later Abbey. I think Specs found a new ballad we can all look at tonight." He left.

My uncle stood there a moment, unsure of what to use as an excuse for coming upstairs. "Would you like some help today?"

I made a valiant effort to smile at him and replied, "I'm almost done. Thanks though."

Later that night as the newsies started drifting in, I was getting some of the rugs from the apartment off the roof. They'd needed a good airing. I had meant to have them in earlier but my uncle had wanted to talk about the Howards' new baby after dinner.

Footsteps sounded on the roof and I turned to see Racetrack again. True to his word Specs had come in earlier with another broadside. I didn't think that had anything to do with him being here now.

"Came to help you bring in the rugs. Bet the others I could carry all of them on my own." He grinned inviting me to help him ease the mood.

I smiled back appreciating his effort. "I'm sorry I said what I did earlier. Really you shouldn't worry about it."

"I want to know what made you say it." He began rolling up the bigger of the two rugs.

"It's really nothing." He glared at me. I sighed, "People just have opinions that influence how they react to certain people."

"What people have what opinions?"

"About reputations."

"That can be fixed. I'm sure the rest of the boys would be glad to lend a hand. Or a fist."

I shook my head. "Really it's not like that," I said hoisting the smaller rug into my arms as he gathered up the other.

"Don't worry we-"

I cut him off. "You can't soak all the women in the neighborhood," and headed down the stairs.

Downstairs Mush said, "Didn't know you were on your way to Brooklyn this morning."

"Does everyone know I went to Brooklyn?" There was a pause then the majority of the boys nodded. "Really?" I was ready to start fuming.

"Well, You see Abigail. Brooklyn is Spot Conlon's territory. We all know Spot Conlon," said Jack lounging against a bunk.

"We all respect Spot Conlon," Boots added. This time everyone nodded and a few looked a little worried.

"He's one of the biggest newsies in New York," Jack continued. "And youse was talking to him."

I shook my head and threw my hands in the air hoping to look defeated. "Not a mistake I will make again."

"Don't worry Abbey. We ain't stalking you" Crutchy mumbled.

"Youse just leave a trail of flour behind that a blind man could follow." Kid Blink chuckled.

I stuck my tongue out at him. As the boys relaxed and shifted I looked at Race. He inclined his head slightly. I relaxed too, grateful he seemed to be satisfied.


	4. Chapter 4

The matter of Brooklyn was dropped. I made sure I stayed in Manhattan and no one brought it up. I probably would have forgotten about the issue entirely if it hadn't been for the events of the next Thursday.

I had convinced my uncle to go out for a walk and was singing softly to myself as I finished cleaning the dishes from lunch when there was a commotion downstairs. I dropped the tin cup I was drying to the floor when I heard Jack shouting from the first floor. The Cowboy never came in during the afternoon. My feet pounded down the steps.

Coming into the lobby I pressed my hands to my mouth to stifle a small scream that tried to escape me. Jack and Mush were at the bottom of the stairs supporting a newsie called Itey. He was barely recognizable under the cuts and bruises that decorated his skin.

I collected myself. "Bring him to the bunk room. I will be right back," I sprinted for the supply closet. Retrieving some cloths and bandage I headed to the bunk room.

Jack and Mush had placed Itey on one of the bunks. It seemed like a random one to me but I figured it was probably the bunk he usually slept in. As I approached Itey shifted and then hissed in pain.

I looked at Mush, "Get me a basin of water." He went and I knelt next to the bunk. "Itey?" The lad opened his swollen eyes as much as he could to look at me. "Do you think anything is broken?" He shook his head. "What is your name?"

"Itey."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" I held up my hand.

"Three."

"Good. I am going to clean your cuts. Are you having trouble breathing?"

He shook his head.

I got to work. Using the water Mush had brought over and the cloths I cleaned the cuts out. Thankfully, none of them were serious enough for stitches. Then I bandaged the ones I thought required extra attention. Finally I stood my knees protesting slightly. "Get some rest. You'll be fine."

Mush picked up the basin of dirty water and dumped it out the window while I turned to Jack who had been watching from his perch on the next bunk.

"Where did you learn how to take care of injuries?" he asked casually, still looking at Itey.

"My grandmother was a nurse in the civil war. She taught me what I know. At home I mostly patched up the dogs when they got in fights. Rarely people. Someone should probably get him something to put on that eye."

Jack nodded.

I hesitated unsure whether I wanted to know, "What happened to him?"

"Delancey brothers got him."

"Delancey brothers?"

"Scum." Mush rejoined us. "They work with Mr. Weisel the man who sells us our papers and they delight in leaving their mark on those of us they can catch alone."

"What lo-" I halted and calmed myself.

"Stay clear of them, Abbey" Jack said. Looking at him I realized it wasn't a suggestion but an order.

I sighed. "I'm not about to go looking for more trouble than there already is."

The next morning I left strict instructions for Itey to stay in bed. My uncle had agreed with me that there was less harm in letting him stay than in sending him out as he was.

I was getting a tray of fresh bread ready to take out frond when I heard the bell ring announcing a customer. "How are you today, Mr. Delancey?" Mr. Howard's voice came through the cloth that hung over the doorway between the bakery and the shop. I grabbed up the tray, just now remembering hearing Mr. Howard greeting a Mr. Delancey on other days and hurried out to get a glimpse of who he was talking to.

Two sour young men in bowlers were at the counter. The taller one had a long face and stood slightly behind the shorter one who scowled as he handed over the money for his breads.

"Abigail, give one of those fresh loaves you have to Oscar here." Mr. Howard said. "Boys, this is our new baking assistant Abigail. Abigail these are the Delancey boys, Oscar and Morris."

I set my tray down and gave a nod. "Good to meet you."

Oscar nodded back and Morris just stared at the wall. Mr. Howard seemed to think this normal behavior so I wrapped a loaf and handed it to Oscar.

"Good customers, those boys. Their uncle too." Mr. Howard informed me when they had left and I was putting the loaves from my tray into a basket on the counter. I glanced at him wondering if he knew that those boys ganged up on people or if he just didn't bother looking past the fact that they bought their bread from him.

To my surprise Kid Blink showed up to walk back to the lodging house that day. I greeted him and we walked in silence for a few moments.

"Are Oscar and Morris really seen as respected members of the community?" I finally blurted.

Blink glanced at me and ran a finger thoughtfully under the strap on his eyepatch. "They ain't nasty to _everybody _and theys can always pay."

I pondered that before voicing my next question. "And what do they have against you Newsies?"

He only shrugged and I let it go at that. I could see the Delancey's were bullies luckily they didn't appear to be smart bullies which would mean they wouldn't be all that creative in their nastiness. Which was fine with me, it meant that the torment they wrought upon any unfortunate would probably be predictable and not long lasting. I could deal with that, though hopefully I wouldn't have to.

That afternoon as I cleaned the bunk room and chatted with Itey, who I had threatened with to make take out all the chamber pots if he left the lodging house, I thought about how much appearence meant. The boys who lived here who were all good hearted and loyal were seen as the most disreputable in the city. Meanwhile there were people like the Delancey brothers who ganged up on people but could always pay and they were seen as decent citizens.


	5. Chapter 5

Itey recovered quickly and no one else came in seriously damaged for the rest of that week.

On Monday I was on baby duty and helping Mrs. Howard run the counter as Mr. Howard baked when a dark curly haired lad and a boy of about seven carrying a wooden sword came in.

"Good morning David, Les. Shouldn't you boys be in school?" Mrs. Howard asked them.

"No Mum. We-" The older boy started.

"Mrs. Howard, we're going to sell newspapers today!" The younger boy cut in. "We're going to work." He waved his sword importantly.

"Oh my! Well, I better get you boys what you need then and let you be on your way to work!" Mrs. Howard cried. She winked at the older one. "What would you like today, David?"

The older one, David, replied, "We'd like one of those breads with the cheese in it, please Mrs. Howard."

"We have to hurry!" Les, who looked to be around seven, insisted.

"We must." She replied. "Here, Abigail let me take Charles and you can get the order." She got tired easily these days.

I handed the baby over and retrieved the stuffed bread and wrapped it while she chatted with David and Les stood on his tiptoes to peer over the counter and make sure I picked the right bread.

"Abigail," Mrs. Howard turned to me as I finished wrapping. "You know the newsboys. Abigail's uncle runs the lodging house for the boys." She explained to the two. "Do you know anyone who might show them the ropes their first day?"

"Really, we're fine Mrs. Howard," David protested.

"Oh, I'm sure Abigail doesn't mind." Mrs. Howard chirped. I knew this mood. She wouldn't rest until she got her way.

"Well, you could talk to Cowboy." I hazarded a guess, making sure I gave this lad no promises of help that the Newsies might not uphold.

Mrs. Howard beamed. "Thank you." David said and at a nudge Les, who's eyes had latched onto me the moment Mrs. Howard mentioned knowing the newsies, echoed him. I gave them their bread, David paid and Les towed him out the door into the square where the newsies were beginning to congregate.

Mrs. Howard chuckled as she watched David try to calm his younger brother down enough for their hurried breakfast. I was looking at the group of boys I could see at the gates. The Delancey brothers had just pushed their way in there. I waited for an explosion, tense because I'd glimpsed familiar caps in the center of the group a moment before and I knew most of the lodging house boys were there. They couldn't afford any trouble.

Instead of an explosion the group turned as Jack burst out of it throwing a bowler over his shoulder with the Delanceys stumbling out of the crowd behind him. The flour cart pulled up at that moment blocking my view, then Jack's form rolled under the wagon and onto the sidewalk. Mrs. Howard gasped in horror as he pulled himself up into the awning on the front of the bakery. The men out front started hollering as Oscar and Morris, his bowler regained, leapt onto the flour cart.

Jack swung down out of the awning knocking the brothers onto the street and took off again.

"Who is that boy?" Mrs. Howard gushed.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to say anything. She needn't know that the boy who'd just kicked some of her valued customers off a cart and into the dirt was the one I'd just advised some of her other customers to go to for advice.


	6. Chapter 6

6

Boots showed up to walk home with me at late morning. We discussed the day's headline that glared off the front of the paper he had saved for Kloppman. "Trolley Strike Drags On..."

"You'd think they'd give us some better headlines." He grumbled as the August sun did it's best to make us sweat. "Don't know how Pulitzer 'spects us to sell this."

I nodded and bid him farewell heading up the steps of the lodging house. "Good afternoon, Uncle." I said as I opened the door. I stopped. He wasn't at the desk. "Maybe he decided to go upstairs to wait for lunch," I reassured myself and tucking my paper under my arm, I headed for the stairs.

He wasn't in the apartment, the bunk room or on the roof. My mind flashed back to the afternoon before:

_Kloppman stands in front of the open door to the cleaning closet. It's odd to find him here. He hasn't touched any of the cleaning things since I arrived. _

"_Uncle?"_

_He keeps staring into the closet._

"_Uncle?" I tap him on the shoulder. _

_He looks at me, my skirts slightly wet from scrubbing the floors. "Don't let Momma see you've gotten your skirts wet, Susanne." He tells me. "She won't give you any supper."_

_I step back from him and his blank face. "Uncle, it's me Abigail."_

_He starts. "Abigail?" He fumbles and glances around as if orienting himself. I see him pulling himself together, recognizing me and his surroundings. "Are we having lunch?" _

I felt panic rising in me. Dropping the newspaper, I raced down the stairs and out the front door. Once in the street I hesitated glancing both ways, then ran towards the square. Rounding the first corner, I smacked into someone.

Hands steadied me as a stack of the afternoon's papers slipped to the dusty ground. Racetrack ignored them, holding onto me so I couldn't go bolting off.

"Race!" I noticed several of the other boys with him, just heading out. "I can't find Kloppman. He's missing."

"Calm down." Racetrack said.

"Kloppman probably just took a walk." Skittery pointed out.

I took a deep breath and shook my head feeling one of my hair pins inch towards freedom. "It's lunch time and he didn't leave a note." I didn't want to tell them of the times like yesterday when Kloppman forgot where he was and what he was doing. "He would leave a note." I felt like I was whining.

"We'll find him." Kid Blink said cooly. "He can't be that far. You go fix lunch for him."

Racetrack gathered up his papers and headed back towards the lodging house with me, incase Kloppman had returned in my absence. He hadn't. Leaving his papers at the door to the apartment, Race began helping me with lunch.

"Kloppman will be fine. He's been in this city for years." He reassured me as I cut some bread.

"I know, but..."

He waited.

"Sometimes he doesn't remember where he is. He thinks I am his sister sometimes, calls me Susanne. The other day he dropped a dish and he begged Susanne not to tell anyone. He didn't want to get punished."

Racetrack took the knife and bread from me. I'd done a thorough job of mutilating it. He took my shoulders and steered me to a chair. "Sit down," Then he took up the lunch making.

I watched him cut up one of the year's first tomatoes from the roof garden and some cheese. His hands were more at ease with the job than anyone's but my mother's and I wondered where he had been before the lodging house. I'd learned Mush's story and almost everyone elses' except Jack's. But as much as I talked to Race I didn't know his either. Despite all his fooling around and his ability to talk forever, I'd never heard one bit about his past.

He set the food on the table, "A paper for your thoughts?" He waved the paper Kloppman's paper under my nose.

My mind came back with a snap. After a moment I took the paper, "I was wondering where you got so much practice cutting vegetables."

He stilled for a second and I looked away, sorry I had asked but he chuckled, "I thought you knew I can do anything?" he joked.

I opened my mouth to tease him back but both our heads turned as we heard the door open downstairs. I was out of my chair before I knew what I was doing and almost went sprawling as my skirts conspired against me. Race caught my arm and set me back on my feet.

My uncle was in the lobby laughing at the headlines with Crutchy. He looked up as I arrived on the bottom step, slightly out of breath from my downward hurtle, which I had restricted to a hurried walk at the second floor landing so as not to alarm Kloppman. "Those dumpsters are a fire hazard if I've ever seen one. Good afternoon Abigail. I'm sorry if I am late for lunch. I ran into Crutchy on the way back from my walk."

I smiled calming myself, "I was starting to think you'd gone to Toby's."

Racetrack had come down the stairs at a more sedated pace. Passing me he greeted my uncle and walked with Crutchy towards to door. "Did you see the new ad for the Lark?" He asked waving a pamphlet at Crutchy. "Good afternoon Mr. Kloppman, Abbey!" And out they went as the church bells rang the noon hour.

"Goodness," my uncle said. "I must have taken a longer walk than I thought." His brow wrinkled in thought and then he shrugged it off. "Was that a tomato I saw you bring in from the garden this morning, Abigail?"


	7. Chapter 7

That evening as I seated myself on a chair in the bunk room, all the boys quieted down. Usually the hubbub didn't die down any unless someone was reading. I looked up from one of Crutchy's shirts whose elbows I was planning on patching. As I looked up the noise picked back up and I looked back down. I had never mentioned Uncle's forgetting spells to any of them but I realized now that I had made an error in judgement. They all took his well-being as seriously as I did. We were, all of us, despite our different beginnings, a family here. I had seen so many times how the Newsies took care of each other and how they were each others' family. Somehow though I had missed that my uncle and I were considered one of their number.

There would be no reading going on tonight, I could see it as cards and dice appeared out of pockets. The boys wagered pennies and cigars. Once in awhile I joined them betting chores like bringing the laundry in or patching clothing. When I first started playing the card games with them I had ended up with small mountains of patchwork to do in the evenings. Slowly I got better though and more and more often one of the boys would haul the wash water onto the roof for me.

I began letting the hems down on Race's spare pair of pants. Even at 18 he was growing like a weed. I wasn't really sure why anyone bothered gaming with him, he rarely lost whether he cheated or not. Yet I had played a hand with him the other night just to see how well I could do. I had done well but I still had his pants to let down and a shirt to patch for my curiosity.

Insults and the day's news flowed around the room. As I finished the first leg of the pair of pants, chair legs squeaked against the floor and Race settled himself in front of me offering a deck of cards.

"Didn't we just do this the other night?" I asked. "I'm not even done that patching job."

Kid Blink pulled himself up to watch. "It's his head this time, Abbey. It's needed a patch job since he was born."

I smiled and held out my hand. If I was playing, I was dealing. Racetrack handed over the cards.

"Gin?"

He nodded. With Boots peering over my shoulder, I dealt and began to play.

Halfway through the game all heads went up. "Abigail?" Kloppman stood in the door way. I handed my cards over to Boots, who had a better idea of what was going on in my hand anyways and walked out into the stairwell.

Kloppman handed me an envelope, "Happy Birthday." He said. "It came in a few days ago but I thought I'd save it for today." I started, remembering my own birthday as it passed.

"Did you leave the trash on the stairwell to the roof?" He asked. His brow puckered with concern. My mind half on the letter I thought, does he think I as angry with him so I left the trash places, like a cat peeing inside?

My mind caught up with me. Uncle had taken the trash after dinner. I looked back up at him and realized his concern was not for me. He was seeing his own lack of memory. I wondered for an instant how much he remembered. Did he remember getting the trash but not dumping it?

"I must have forgotten it when I went up to make sure I got all the laundry down." I fibbed and was rewarded by the relief on his face. "I'll go get it right now."

He waved his hand. "It's taken care of. Don't leave it on the stairs anymore though. Some one could trip." And as he turned to go I heard, "We all forget things sometimes." I watched his retreating figure for a moment before facing the well lit bunk room again. I tucked my letter in my apron pocket, thinking, I'm eighteen today and went back in.

Boots gave me back my hand as I settled in, trying to catch back up with the condition of the cards. I bit my tongue trying to figure out where I was going to go with them and what Boots had in mind. Racetrack slapped a card face down on the discard pile, "Knock."

I groaned and heard some laughter from the bunk behind me.

"Let's see, Abigail," Race grinned.

Reluctantly I laid my hand on the table, ready to ask what needed patching next but Racetrack wasn't crowing and slapping his hand down. A look of surprise crossed his face and he looked at his hand again and back to mine.

Blink leaned over from his dice game, "I think you should charge him double for being caught unawares. Two tubs of laundry water. Fetched and dumped."

Finally Race put his hand down. He had knocked first but I had less points in my hand. By some miracle I had won. "Two laundry days it is then," he groaned.

Laughter filled the room and talk turned to the David and Les. Overall, Les seemed to be considered cute and David to be level headed but stubborn.


	8. Chapter 8

It was Saturday, my morning off from the bakery. I wandered down the stairs with my uncle's breakfast and my basket for shopping. Kloppman had hovered as I toasted some of yesterday's bread but disappeared down the stairs before I could serve it. Upstairs I could hear the man beginning to wake up the boys. As he hollered at Cowboy and Blink to wake up, he didn't sound like the man who forgot his breakfast and where he was. I pondered if his forgetfulness would spread from his short-term memory to his work routine of waking up and counting up the newsboys. Uncle came thumping down the stairs, where he stopped to look at me and the napkin of breakfast on his desk. Finally, he nodded and began to eat.

Moments later, the boys came thundering down the stairs some with a good morning and some still bleary-eyed and pulling up their suspenders. I watched them go while I waited for Kloppman to finish eating. Then as the last of them trotted out, I wished my uncle a good morning and headed out to the grocer and the butcher. The summer air was hot and even early the sun beat down. In a small moment of homesickness, I wished for the stream at home that my brothers and I stuck our feet in on hot days like these. I caught up with the Newsies as I came around the corner. They were stopped at a church cart which was handing out bread and coffee and moving back out into the street in the direction of the square after they had received their share.

Crutchy limped up beside me as the others conversed, "Good mornin' Abigail."

I greeted him in return as I listened to the voices around me. Something I had learned when I first came was that although the boys considered me family, and maybe because of it, they told me about their lives but conveniently left out what might be offensive or dangerous bits when they talked to me. A protective movement that I appreciated but ignored. Just because they didn't tell me didn't mean I didn't hear. And now as Crutchy walked along beside me, I could hear Jack and Blink a few paces behind us discussing the some of the more explosive things that had happened that week, like the trolley strike and a minor infraction of territory by the Newsies of a neighboring newspaper distribution. Through this method of what I previously would have thought of as eavesdropping, I had heard of Jack's brush with the police a day or two back, Skittery's being tossed out of a pub and Spec's near loss of his glasses in a small fight among other things.

My first stop of the morning was the bakers'. Even on days when I didn't work I usually stopped in to help Mrs. Howard around the house as small thanks for being so kind. The woman met me at the door with a grouchy Charles and a basket of bread looking stressed.

"Would you like me to take him with me?" I asked as I took the basket of bread that went to the grocers' and the butchers' in exchange for their wares. "Maybe some fresh air would do him good."

Mrs. Howard traded the child for my own shopping basket quicker than I had thought she would and sent me on my way with a blessing. By the time he had been cooed over by the butcher's wife and chased the grocer's cat into a cabinet, Charles was in a much better frame of mind and I had enjoyed watching his antics. Walking back into the square, though, my light mood vanished.

The Newsies had left the distribution station but things were not as they should have been. They crowded paperless around the statue in the center of the square, where Jack stood trying to be heard over all the conversation going on. I looked at them and then turned back towards the bakery where Mrs. Howard was in the door watching the group warily. I took Charles and the basket back to her and promising to come right back, walked out into the square.

I tried to make my way to where I could see Racetrack's cap in the front of the crowd but the group was too caught up and nobody moved aside for me. Instead I found Snoddy, looking unsure, on the edge of the group. "Snoddy," I shouldered a Newsie I didn't know aside so that I could reach him. "What's going on?"

He looked down at me, startled, "It's a strike."

"What?" I was horrified. None of these boys could afford to stop working long enough to strike.

"They upped the cost of papers. We're gonna strike. All the Newsies in New York," his eyes were wide.

"And we'll soak anybody that doesn't join us!" The boy I had elbowed crowed.

I turned as the crowd began to shift, no longer harboring any intentions of making it to the center of the group. As I neared the bakery, Mrs. Howard came out with my shopping basket containing two loaves of bread. Handing it to me she said, "I think you will be of more use at the lodging house today. I will manage on my own."

I nodded and trotted off to run my other errands before running home. News on the outskirts of Newsie square could move a lot faster than any runner could and common sense was not a thing that the people in the bakery and neighboring shops were lacking. Both the grocer and the butcher had what I wanted when I walked in their doors.

Twenty minutes later I burst into the lodging house. My uncle looked up from balancing the account book and frowned, not expecting me to be back so early.

"Uncle," I collected myself. "The boys are striking. Pulitzer raised the prices at the distribution."

He looked at me a moment, registering what I had said. "We are going to have quite a few empty beds," and went back to his account book, his shoulders sagging.

I stared at him and then left him to go put to our food away. After putting everything in its place I began to clean. Leaning my broom against the table, I dislodged two papers that had been left on the edge.

Picking them up, I found one was an opened envelope addressed to Edward Kloppman from the office of The World News. The other was the letter it had contained. There was a heading with the address of The World and then the body of the letter itself:

Dear Mr. Edward Kloppman,

It is my sincere regret to inform you that your work is no longer required as a World employee. Due to your illness, a replacement has been found for you and will be arriving on Wednesday, August the 17th. You should have all the records ready for the new housekeeper, and the 3rd floor apartment vacated by that time. Mr. Edgar Stevenson and his wife will be arriving at noon to take over. Thank you for your dedication to The World.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Solinsky

Secretary


	9. Chapter 9

That afternoon I decided to dedicate my free time to making the lodging house shine. When the new caretaker moved in there would be nothing to suggest that the place had been kept in less than stellar order. It would also give me time to ponder the questions my uncle's new status of unemployed would bring. At his age he would not find more work and I couldn't support us both.

I started cleaning downstairs, ignoring my uncle's startled face as I hauled my wash water pasted him into the small recreation room off the hall that the boys never used. It wasn't dirty but it certainly had a neglected look to it. Inside the room I started at the top, removing cobwebs dusting, sweeping and washing windows.

Late in the afternoon, as I was finishing the windows, I heard a few of the boys tromp into the main entrance and Kloppman greeted them. There was a silence and then a few of the boys approached the open doorway to the rec room that was so often closed.

"If you step in my dirt pile and trample it all over the place, I will empty all of the wash basins into your bunk tomorrow morning," I said without looking up. Several people chuckled and I heard Kid Blink begin to update Kloppman on the strike. I finished the final window before I turned around. Boots, Race and Skittery were leaning on the doorframe. I frowned and then, stepping carefully around my debris pile moved towards the doorway.

Reaching it, I examined a tear in Boots' sleeve and reached up to tilt Race's head so that I could get a better look at the bruise forming on his jawline. "What happened?"

Blink pushed his way into the doorway glaring at no one in particular. "We made 'em listen to us." He wasn't unscathed either. His knuckles were scraped and bruised.

"All of you?" I asked as I tried to recount the Newsies I had seen drifting in. The boys nodded.

"Is anyone injured?" My mental count of newsboys caught up with me, "Where's Cowboy?"

Skittery opened his mouth and Blink said, "Busy with strike stuff."

I kept counting, "What about Les and David?" When they had reassured me that the two boys were safely home, I began to relax and then froze. "Crutchy?"

The boys froze too. "He'll be back later." Blink said and turned walking out the front door. I looked at the others. Skittery took his leave and Boots went to check how long he was paid for with Kloppman as I looked away to pick up my pile of dirt. I gathered up my cleaning supplies and Race stepped forward to get the bucket of wash water.

"How long will Crutchy be gone?" I watched Racetrack's face as he helped me put my cleaning supplies in the closet upstairs after dumping the water for me. He settled the wash bucket, now full of cleaning supplies, on a shelf not answering. I waited until he finally looked back to me and reached out to trace a finger over his growing bruise. He winced. "What really happened?"

"Don't worry about him," he said. "Everything is alright." I stared at him a second then turning on my heel, I walked into the apartment my uncle and I shared. Racetrack started to say my name but I didn't hear the rest because the door slammed shut behind me.

I stood just inside the door long after I heard Race's feet move back down to the second floor. Looking around the apartment, I came to a decision. Pulling up the edge of my mattress I pulled out paper, a pencil and the letter Kloppman had handed me on my birthday. Then I let myself out of the apartment and headed for the roof to write home. It wouldn't be as cheery and exciting as my mother's report of life at home but it needed to be written.

_Mother, _

_It is excellent to hear from you. Uncle Kloppman gave me the letter on my birthday. _

_I regret to send so dreary a reply. Uncle received a letter today telling him that they are hiring a new person to run the lodging house more efficiently. They must have heard about his forgetting spells. In any case we have to be out by the Wednesday after next. I think that Uncle should come home to the farm. He would not be able to hold a new job and I cannot support him. _

_As for me-_

I paused in my writing to look out over the rooftops. My mother would not take the next bit of news well but it was the way it had to be.

_-I will be staying in New York. There is a life to be made here. The other day I heard of a book keeper who had a room for let above his shop. I plan to look into that as soon as possible. My job at the bakery and my savings will support me until I find a second job. Please understand that I can do this._

_I can put Uncle on the first train out of town on the 17__th__._

_Love,_

_Abigail_

I sent my letter that afternoon, paying for a special messenger. Hopefully, it would reach home within 2 days.


	10. Chapter 10

"Get over here and play a hand, Abbey. My shirt could use a pretty big patch on the shoulder!"

I looked over at Blink. He was about to pass from tipsy to drunk. "I'll whoop you in cards and still patch your shirt," I told him. "You just have to tell me where you ripped it first."

The room went quiet and Kid Blink set his cup down. I waited. Jack leaned forward on his chair, propping his elbows on his knees. He looked straight at me, "We all have bad balance, Abigail. Nothing to be done about that." I stood picking up my lamp and mending. Jack could tell me to mind my own business but I would mind it somewhere else. I considered dumping their half mended clothes on the floor but Kloppman's letter flashed before my eyes.

"I can't fix that shirt if it's on your back," I told Blink and left, retreating once again to the roof.

I set the lamp on a crate and folded myself beside it. Some part of me wanted all the boys' mending done before I left, a need to leave them with something good. I wanted to wonder what they would do without me but I knew that they had survived before I had come. My head thumped back against the crate and I closed my eyes only to open them again as the door to the building creaked open. Footsteps moved across the roof and Blink's shirt dropped into my lap.

"That's two times you've stormed out of a room today, Abbey." Racetrack settled onto the upturned washing bin. "What's wrong?"

"I want to know what is going on. Knowing isn't going to hurt me. It could help me. You tell Kloppman."

There was a pause, "Understood. I will tell you but first you have to tell me what is wrong."

"Nothing is-" He cut me off.

"If it was just not getting information from us, you would have let us know or got it out of one of the younger boys. This is something else."

I stood tossing Blink's shirt into the pile of clothes next to me. My heels clicked against the rooftop as I moved past Racetrack to look down at the street. It was still busy with people headed home for a late dinner. "Uncle Kloppman is being replaced as caretaker of the lodging house. His services are no longer required. The World has thanked him for his service and dismissed him." I sat leaning my head against the brick wall the edged the roof, listening to the sound of voices below and the silence up on the roof.

"When?" Racetrack finally asked. "Where will the two of you go?"

"The 17th. Uncle is going home. Mother will pick him up from the train stop nearest the farm."

"It will be good for you-" He stopped. "And where are you going?"

I sighed, knowing I would have had to answer this sooner or later. "I am going to rent the room over Chancey's Bookshop. Maybe get a second job. Tibby's or Mr. Murphy could use some help in the grocery. I'll find something."

When Race didn't say anything I looked up at him. He was staring out over the roofs. "You're thinking I am making a bad decision," he still didn't respond. "It's time I make my own way. There is nothing for me back home. All of my friends are running their own households."

"I don't agree with it but it's your decision." His eyes were still trying to find deep meaning in the rooftops across the street.

"I'm sorry," I wasn't sure why I said it. "I'm not ready for the life that would be made for me back home. Maybe I will get over it and go back but not yet."

"Abbey," he was looking at me this time. "We'll help you. The newsies. We'll support you."

I chuckled slightly more wetly than I wanted to. I needed someone's approval in this. "I will be fine. The newsies have enough on their plates without babysitting me." I took a deep breath. "Now it is your turn. Tell me what is going on."

He turned away again. "We're striking. I would bet that Davey is the only one that knows what is really going on. We want all of New York to go on strike with us but they are holding back. They want to know if we will stick it out. Spot Conlon wants to know.

"There was a bit of a scuffle in the distribution center today when the afternoon papes went out. Scabbers don't see eye to eye with us. We changed their minds."

"There should be other ways to change their minds. Ones that don't leave marks." I couldn't see his bruised face in the shadows.

"That's what Davey says," his fists clenched.

"Crutchy?"

"Oscar and Morris got him. Turned him over to the bulls."

"They what?" I sat bolt upright.

"The police were coming so we beat it. Crutchy must not have heard. The Delancy's caught him on his way out." He was sitting perfectly still.

"Where is he?" I whispered. "When is he coming back?"

"The Refuge." At my questioning look he added, "Supposed to cure us kids who are criminals. Jack went to see how he was faring tonight, right before I came up here."

"Promise me something?" When he nodded I went on, "That you'll all at least give a passing thought to staying safe. Kloppman's going to need you all. Please?"

He nodded. "Get to bed, Abbey. Tomorrow's another day and at the rate you are cleaning, you need your rest."


	11. Chapter 11

I was just beginning to haul my wash water up the stairs the next morning when Snipeshooter came bolting up the stairs with Les on his tail. Setting my bucket down, I steadied myself and turned to face the two boys tugging on my skirts.

"If you pull me down the stairs, all three of us will be soaking wet and we will have to clean it up before I hear what you have to say."

"David says we might be needing you this morning," Les panted still grasping my skirt.

I raised my brows.

"Yesterday we-" Snipeshooter started.

"Let's go." Grabbing my wash water, I moved down to the main landing and set the bucket against the wall before running the rest of the way out of the building. It wasn't until we were nearing the square that I realized I not only had no supplies but I had neglected to leave a note for Kloppman.

When we entered the square all was silent. Snipeshooter and Les dashed ahead and straight into the newsies in front of the distribution center. When I went to follow them someone grabbed my arm nearly scaring me out of my skin.

"Miss, it'd be better for you to stay back." The man in the brown tweed jacket released my arm so that he could dedicate both hands to balancing a large instrument.

I looked between him and the mob of boys, then attempted to calm myself. Settling my eyes on the newsies, I asked, "What are you carrying, Mr..."

"Denton. Brian Denton. Reporter. This is a camera." Now I did look at him. I had never seen a camera up close before. "I was hoping to get a picture of the boys for an article on the strike. And what brings you rushing into this, Miss?"

"Abigail Bingham. My uncle runs the lodging house. Two of the boys told me there might be some patching up needed. Maybe everything will stay quiet."

That was when a wagon raced by. Then I heard Jack's voice shouting, "Let's soak 'em for Crutchy." With a shout the boys moved forward into the distribution center. Something was wrong. The gates weren't supposed to close while they were inside.

Then I heard it. Racetrack's voice over the noise, "Whoa Jack! Jack! It's the Crypts!" The sound from inside the center doubled.

Mr. Denton took off towards the center's gates. I could see him arguing with an officer on horseback. About to move forward myself, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. Mrs. Collin, the butcher's wife, shook her head, "This is a time for waiting, dear."

Suddenly, a mass of unfamiliar newsies swarmed past us toward the opening gates of the center. The noises from inside changed again. The young man who had directed me to Mrs. Thomas' finished pushing the gates aside and disappeared back inside along with Denton. Mrs. Collin let me go, giving me a push toward the center, "Let me know if anyone needs serious attention." I watched her leave before running to the entrance of the distribution center to count heads.

There was a flash and Mr. Denton appeared from under a cloth draped over the back of his camera. When I looked past him, I could see my newsies half blinded by the flash, laughing and pushing each other. My eyes scanned them. Miraculously there were very few cuts and nothing serious that I could see. I decided the small assorted wounds could heal themselves and stood just watching.

Snipeshooter appeared in from of me, grinning from ear to ear. "We did it, Abbey! Spot Conlon came!" He paused for breath, "Wait 'til I tell Kloppman!"

My mind churned to a halt. I hadn't left a note. "I have to go. If anybody needs me for injuries I will be at the lodging house. I need to check on Uncle." I turned and fled.

It was nearing noon when Racetrack, Boots and Itey came in. Uncle Kloppman had arrived home from his morning walk shortly after I had gotten to work cleaning the desk and the shelves behind it while I waited for the laundry to dry. He'd told me the news of the fight and was going over his account book for the third time when the three newsies planted themselves in the lobby.

"We're off to Tibby's for lunch. Denton's supposed to bring the paper." Itey announced.

"'Fraid you'll have to count me out today, boys," my uncle said. "Little busy with some papers this morning."

"Abbey, would you like to come along?" Racetrack asked.

"I c-"

"Go along, Abigail. You've done plenty of cleaning for today," Kloppman folded up one of my rags. "I'll put your things away."

"Come on," Race held his hand out and seemed to think better of it. "If this place gets any shinier, we'll all be blinded."

"What about your lunch, Uncle?"

"I can fend for myself for one meal. Get out and enjoy yourself." He was still adding up numbers in his book while he spoke. Finally I shrugged and walked out from behind the counter trying to straighten my blouse and skirt.


	12. Chapter 12

Tibby's was a small restaurant off of the square, where the newsies, when they could afford it, ate their meals. Despite the excitement they were all quiet as I walked in. I could see the hostess standing behind the till, keeping an eye on things. She liked the boys as customers but she expected them to act properly in her husband's establishment.

Tibby's owner nodded to me as I walked in and let the boys steer me towards a table that already had quite a few newsies crowded around it. Jack, Mush, Davey, Les and some newsies I didn't recognize, all huddled over their food under the watchful eye of Tibby's wife. Racetrack grabbed two chairs and squeezed them in at the table while Boots and Itey settled down at other tables. I sat between Les and David in the chair Race offered me and Les immediately launched into a tale of the morning's events and Mr. Denton's camera.

David, all manners, interrupted him saying, "Abbey, this here is Spot Conlon. He and the Brooklyn newsies lent us a hand this morning." I looked up, eying tears in shirts and assorted bruises on both my newsies and Brooklynites.

"Abbey and I have meet before," Spot said calmly from across the table as if he knew just how much trouble I had gotten in for my trip to Brooklyn.

"It looks like you had a very busy morning. A pleasure to meet you again Spot," I nodded to the others.

Les was just launching into his story again when a cheer went up by the door. Mr. Denton walked in waving the afternoon edition of his paper, The Sun. He walked over to our table and slapped the pape down in front of Jack. There staring up off of the front page were the newsies. The boys crowded around to see their picture as Denton stepped back to take his lunch from a waiter. David moved back to stand with Denton and I joined them in time to hear the reporter saying, "You got yourself on the front page. You just gotta make sure you stay there."

I looked back at the boys who were jostling for a better view over Jack's shoulder at the paper. Skittery grumbled something that had Race and Mush giving him a shove. Race gave him another shove and said, "What's the matter with you? You in the papes you famous! You're famous you get anything you want."

I had to laugh at the boys as they started debating what they would get if they were famous. Shoes, a tub, fitted knickers, Havana cigars… Les shouted that he wanted to go see the flickers before turning to me. "What would you get if you were famous, Abbey?"

Chuckling, "I'd like to get you all new shirts so that I can stop patching them. Barring that I would love to go see the flickers. I've never been."

The boys began to pass the paper around, as Les began to tell me all the miracles of the movies, clapping each other on the back and getting up to move about in excitement. Soon, Denton, David and I were pulled in it. I found myself twirled around by Mush who then joined the crowd surrounding Denton as they lifted him and his chair into the air.

Mrs. Tibby, coming forward, was danced with by each boy she passed, til she reached the center and laughingly scolded them for making such a scene over a little bit of paper. She was promptly shown that paper, which she admired but told everyone to calm down anyways.

Following the woman out of the crowd, I helped her pick up plates as the newsies once again huddled around the central table where Jack, David, and Spot had sat back down. After she shooed me away, I waved to the boys who were deep into plotting their next move and let myself out to head home. I couldn't get it out of my head that the Lodging House needed to shine by next Wednesday.

That night, the boys settled themselves down in the front hall and the rec room to make signs. Somewhere they had found old boards and some paint. I was perched on Kloppman's stool while the old man hovered over the boys correcting their spelling. He was helping to finish a sign when the door opened and tall, pudgy man dressed in well-made clothing in all black walked in. The man picked up Kloppman's account book which was sitting on the desk. About to open my mouth, I shut it as my uncle moved forward to take the book from the man.

"Can I help you?" He asked the man.

I watched the way the man looked down his nose at my uncle before he answered, "You have a boy who calls himself Jack Kelly. I wish to see him."

As Kloppman proceeded to tell the man that he had no boys by that name, I reached my foot out and tapped Racetrack with my toe. As he straightened from his crouch to see what I needed, I nodded in the direction of the newcomer. Race paused then elbowed Kid Blink. Slowly all the boys got to their feet as Kloppman called out, "Hey, any of you boys ever heard of Jack Kelly?" Heads shook and Jack coming out of the rec room in response to his name was shoved back.

Racetrack stepped forward, "Oh, you mean Jack Kelly," scratching his head he continued. "Yeah, he was here but he put an egg in his shoe and beat it." He jammed his cigar in his mouth, proud with himself. I shook my head and Kloppman waved a hand at him dismissively.

The man reddened and took a step towards the cocky Italian as laughter echoed around the foyer then thought better of it and turned back to my uncle. "I have reason to believe he is an escaped prisoner and possibly dangerous," he growled.

"Oh!" Kloppman fumbled and I tried to look shocked as Jack moved out of the rec room behind the man and started making faces.

Giving up, the man decided to take his leave. Turning he found himself blocked by a wall of signs with Race in front, "Give to the newsies strike now Mister?" And the man handed over a dime before pushing his way out the door.

"I am not going to ask," Kloppman sighed once the man had left, "why Warden Snyder was looking for you. Leave me out of it." Jack peeking out of the rec room only smiled and work resumed.

Leaning over to Boots, who had gone to work beside me, I asked, "Who is Warden Snyder?"

He and Pie Eater, who was painting a sign with him, looked up at me. "The Warden runs the Refuge, prison for kids," Boots answered.


End file.
